There's a long line of choreographers who have used technology to redesign the body: Bauhaus-inspired Oskar Schlemmer, who used bizarrely structured costumes to distort the natural shape of his dancers; hippy-dippy Alwin Nikolais, who submerged his performers in lighting and props. But such projects appear quaintly old school compared to Hiroaki Umeda, who immerses himself in such a perfect storm of light, video and sound that his body rarely looks human.

This is Umeda's second London performance in recent years, and in some ways his method looks unchanged. The accompanying electronic music runs the same gamut, from low level static to blasts of noise that short-circuit every nerve ending. His dance style is composed of the same distinctive elements: a frantic, delicate scribbling of the legs beneath a waveringly graceful torso, robotic jerks and quirks alternating with long, intent stillnesses.

What's different in this new double bill is the light. In Haptic, the stage is saturated with different shades of colour, so that in one section Umeda appears to be dissolving in a mist of aquamarine blue; in another he's a dark demon, outlined with hallucinatory clarity against a deep blood red; in another, he's flayed alive by a strobe.

Meticulously accomplished as these contrasts are, they are nowhere near as startling as the blizzard of shining particles that animate the second piece, Holistic Strata. Dancing through these, Umeda is caught in an apocalyptic snowstorm, reduced to some antic computer chip, or floats among a galaxy of stars. When the particles suddenly concentrate on to his body, they form a pixilated second skin that slips eerily around him.

All these are effects to marvel at. Yet this second viewing confirms that Umeda works a narrow seam. One man, a few wonderful lighting ideas and some very brutal noise can make for a very long evening.